Rowe's P.O.V
When I got to the new flat, I made sure no one was home before heading straight to the recording booth. I recorded some background music before starting. See, I'm not only a song writer, I write poems too. (A/N: this is gonna be kinda long so if you don't wanna read it search "Shane Koyczan To This Day on YouTube.)
"But I'm not the only one who grew up this way, surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones, as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called and we got called them all, so we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us, that we'd be lonely forever, that we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed, so broken heart strings blead the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so that we would feel nothing don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone, that an ingrown life is something that surgeons can cut away, that there's no way for it to metastasize it does, she was 8 years old, our first day of grade 3 when she got called 'Ugly', we both got moved to the back of the class so we would stop getting bombarded by spitballs, but the school halls were a battleground where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day, we used to stay inside for recess because outside was worse, outside we'd have to rehearse running away or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there, in grade 5, they tapped a sign to the front of her desk that read 'Beware of Dog', to this day, despite a loving husband she doesn't believe she's beautiful because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half her face, kids used to say 'she looks like a wrong answer someone tried to erase but couldn't quite get the job done.', and they'll never understand that she is raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word mom, because they see her heart before they see her skin, because she's only ever always been amazing, he, was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree, adopted, not because his parents opted for a different destiny, he was 3 when he became a mixed drink of 1 part left alone and 2 parts tragedy, started therapy in eighth grade, had a personality made up of tests and pills, lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs, four-fifths suicidal, a tidal wave of anti-depressants and an adolescents of being called popper, 1 part because of the pills, 99 parts because of the cruelty, he tried to kill himself in grade 10 when a kid who could still go home to mom and dad had the audacity to tell him, 'get over it.', as if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit, to this day he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends, could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends and the moments before it's about to fall, and despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration, he remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand that sometimes being drug free, has less to do with addiction, and more to do with sanity. We weren't the only kids who grew up this way, to this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were 'hey stupid', 'hey spaz', seems like each school has an arsenal of names being updated every year, and if a kid brakes in a school and no one around chooses to hear do they make a sound? Or are they just background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like 'kids can be cruel'? Every school was a big top circus tent and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers, from clowns to carnies, all these miles ahead if who we were, we were freaks, lobster claw boys and bearded ladies, oddities, juggling depression and loneliness, playing solitaire, spin the bottle trying to kiss the wounded parts ourselves and heal, but at night, while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope, it was practice and yeah, some of us fell, but I want to tell them that all this, is just debris, leftover when we finally decided to smash all the things we thought we used to be, and if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror, look a little closer, stare a little longer, because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit, you built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself, you signed it, they were wrong, because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique, maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything, maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell, but never told, because how can you stand your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? You have to believe that they were wrong, they have to be wrong, why else would we still be here? We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them, we stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called, we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on some highway, and if in some way we are don't worry, we only got out to walk and get gas, we are the graduating members from the class of 'We Made It', not the faded echoes of voices crying out names will never hurt me, of course they did, but our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act, that has less to do with pain, and more to do with beauty."
When I finished, I felt really good about myself. This was something I wanted to share for awhile and recording it made me feel really good. So I decided to record more.
When I was finished, I decided to take a walk. I think I remember seeing some shoppes on the way here just down the road. I made my way through the building and onto the street, walking past the shoppes.
I was in a floral dress with brown oxfords that had cut-outs on the sides. My hair was in a pony tail and I had a floral print bow in my hair that matched my dress. I was also wearing a gold feather neccklace and gold feather earrings. (see outfit here or go to my page on polyvore @/loveisinfinite14 or on instagram @/such.a.payne.being.rosalie http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=123812876 )
I walked into starbucks to find that there was no line which was perfect. I walked up to the counter to order.
"hello!" The barista said.
"Hi! Can I have a shaken iced passion tea please?"
"Yep! can I have a name?"
"Rowe"
"Ok! coming right up."
i got my drink, paid, and left. I made my way back towards my appartment and was about to enter the building when i heard people screaming in the distance. i turned my head to see a heard of people running in my direction. At the front of this heard was none other than.......
.....
.....
.....
Yup, One Direction. and they were headed right for me.
"ROWE! HELP" I heard my brothers' Irish friend call to me. i motioned for them to come into the building and they did. But the fans looked like they were coming too.
"Quck! Guys! Into the elevator!" we all piled into the elevator but the fans were right behind us. they were coming to the doors at a fast pace and the doors shut just in time.
"well that was close" i said to them.
"Ya, too close." Harry said out of breath.
And that's just the beginning of how I got stuck with One Direction.
